


A Breeze in a Still, Silent Room

by Graziana



Series: Other 'Verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Animagus, Coming of Age, Fluff, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15671040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graziana/pseuds/Graziana
Summary: Sirius Black remembers - somewhat painfully - asking his mother what her Other mark was.





	A Breeze in a Still, Silent Room

 

Sirius Black remembers - somewhat painfully - asking his mother what her Other mark was. 

 

He was seven at the time and, whilst the harshness of his upbringing was quickly becoming apparent, it was not yet enough to deter him from asking difficult questions that he would later come to understand were simply unacceptable to ask in polite society. 

 

The slap that the question resulted in certainly deterred him from asking any further on that particular day.

 

Something that the Black family held very dear - along with their pureblood traditions and archaic obsession with social class - was the purity of marriages across the family. Any Black could point proudly to a vast family tree populated with marriages that boasted of matched Other marks and purity of wizarding blood. 

 

Sirius would wonder later, and only for a fleeting moment, at age 15, whether his mother’s slap had been driven by the impropriety of his question or something else; a truth she would rather not put voice to. At 15 years of age the thought is fleeting and preposterous, and doesn’t bear wasting breath on, let alone brain power, when he could be in the common room seeing how wildly he could make the girls blush with his flirting. 

 

Later in his life, in the cold cell of Azkaban, his mind addled with darkness, he would revisit the idea. It would turn over and over in his mind and become well worn down like the edges of a coin, as he held the notion aloft and placed it next to the murky memories of his childhood. Memories that spoke of a silver birthmark on his father’s foot that he saw only once, and the clarity of hindsight that suddenly drew Sirius’ attention to the great care that his father took to keep his feet - and the mark - covered up during Sirius’ youth. Thoughts of his childhood that suddenly drew attention to the heavy bottle of viscous ointment with a delicate pipette that sat on his mother’s vanity dresser that had no real explanation in a family obsessed with displaying their marks. 

 

But these thoughts only occured much, much later. At 15 contemplating his parent’s relationship was not something that appealed to him greatly. 

 

Instead, the four friends, Peter, James, Remus and Sirius, would sit and talk deep into the night about whom their Other might be, what she might look like, or what marks might appear when their seventeenth birthday appeared. 

 

One particularly cold night in their fourth year, Peter voiced a query that all of them at one point or another had privately had. 

 

“Does it happen instantly? Like is there a moment when you don’t have it, and then the clock chimes midnight on your seventeenth birthday and they appear?” 

 

They all want to be able to say that his question is a silly one, ridiculous even, but none of them had even the slightest idea of the answer. Even in pureblood society it was the idea of the Other that was revered, not the mechanics, so Peter’s question was met with silence. 

 

“I wonder if I will be unlucky enough that I get something obscure - like one freckle that I don’t even notice and I will be looking for my Other forever.” Peter continued when he realised that an answer to his first query would not be forthcoming from the boys around him. 

 

This thought was sobering. The futility of the situation and the lack of any definitive answers silenced the conversation for the evening. Eventually they decided to play a game of exploding snap - and the heavy weight was lifted from the evening, but no mention of Others was had for a few months after that night.  

 

*

 

Sirius turned 17 first. It was a bitingly cold week in November of their sixth year. The full moon would be on Saturday night, and Sirius was distracted. 

 

He, James, and Peter were all in the last few steps of the Animagus process. They wagered that they would be able to complete the transformation - all three of them - by the December full moon. Sirius was the closest to completing the process, with Peter hot on his heels, and James a week-or so behind them. 

 

They had some plans for his birthday - Cake and butterbeer in the common room in the evening but nothing too spectacular. Studying, homework, and reading for the transformation that lay ahead of them ate away at their time, and in the blustery and icy sharp winter they found that their energy was low. 

 

His birthday was on Wednesday, and so Tuesday was a quiet and solemn day. Sirius appreciated the peace and quiet, but he also felt caged slightly - trapped by a wariness that his friends had adopted - that he hadn’t asked for. On the Tuesday night Sirius excused himself for bed earlier than he might normally, but tucked up in the warm duvet he lay awake for a long time. Long enough to hear the other boys eventually enter the dormitory and stumble around in the dark for their pyjamas whilst trying to be quiet.

 

As Sirius lay awake later and later into the night, trying desperately to soothe his mind to a point of sleep, he allowed himself briefly to consider those around him. He knew that his Other wasn’t necessarily going to be someone at Hogwarts, there was a likelihood that his Other may be older than him or even much younger. They could be at school in a different country, in Europe perhaps. They might even be a muggle, and entirely unaware that Sirius was their Other Half. He lingered on the last one for a bit, amused by how much it would anger his parents further, but also struck by the challenge it might pose - finding his Other, using muggle means to woo them to the point that he was comfortable enough that he might reveal his heritage. It was, rather surprisingly to him, not a thought that caused him any anxiety, but rather an odd buzz of excitement with the promise of a daunting task that he might take on with relish. 

 

And as he lay awake with the thoughts rapidly circling through his head there was a breeze in the room. 

 

It was slight, not noticeable, and certainly not enough to wake someone, but in the silence and stillness of the dormitory, and with the certainty that all the doors and windows were firmly closed to the cold, it was enough for Sirius. 

 

He exhaled with the last of the breeze and everything fell silent again. He lay still for a little longer. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour and then an hour, and still Sirius didn’t move, instead he let the memory of the breeze-that-wasn’t-a-breeze soak into his very bones. 

 

It had been over a year ago when the Marauders had sat in that dormitory and mused over what it might feel like on their seventeenth birthday.  Sirius had an answer for them now, but it wasn’t an answer that he felt inclined to ever tell them. This moment was for him and him alone. It soothed the hurts of the past seventeen years: a balm on the red heat of the slap his mother had dealt him when he was seven. It dulled the edges of rejections from romantic entanglements and friendships alike from his first years at Hogwarts. It numbed the loneliness that clawed at his insides when he thinks about the empty room and sullen brother that he left behind at Grimmauld Place.

 

Maybe more time passed but eventually the peace he felt started to morph into a different feeling, and a hammering of excitement started to press against Sirius’ chest. Without too much thought he pulled himself out of bed and silently launched himself to the bathroom where he might look in the mirror. 

 

In the dim light Sirius stripped off his pyjama t-shirt and examined his arms, chest, shoulders and neck for markers of his Other. His eyes took a moment to adjust but after that he doesn’t have to look much further for the evidence. 

 

Immediately he is drawn to his upper left arm and shoulder. There was a large mess of scarring, scarring that Sirius knew to be the result of a bite, the work of Greyback. The rest of his chest was a patchwork of scarring only a few large enough to draw attention to any distinct mark. They shimmered silver on his body but he knew that they are a myriad of shades of healed on the body that they originated from. 

 

Remus tended to be cautious about leaving any part of his body uncovered for an extended period of time in front of other people. So Sirius had never had the time to appreciate how extensive his friend’s - well, his Other now, he supposes - injuries were. He wonders whether more will be added during the coming weekend and he hopes with some futility that there won’t be. 

 

Sirius replaces his shirt; he has seen enough for now. He  _ knows,  _ and that is what is important. 

 

He smiles at himself in the mirror, and even as he starts to realise how hugely tired he is he can’t help but notice the wild glint in his eyes. He turns the lights off and closes the door quietly behind him as he exits the bathroom, but not quietly enough it would seem. Remus’ bed is the closest. 

 

“Sirius?” he mumbles into the dark, “Is that you?” 

 

“Yes, Remus. I’m here.” he answers softly. 

 

“Is everything ok?” Remus’ voice becomes more and more faint as the sleep starts to take him again. 

 

“Everything is good, Remus. You should sleep” Sirius coaxes gently. 

 

“Mmmh, will sleep. But you’re sure? Everything is good?”

 

“More than good.” Sirius nods to himself in the dark. He knows the boy probably won’t remember this conversation in the morning, but feels the need to reassure him nonetheless. “Everything is perfect, Remus.” 

 

“Good. M’glad.” 

 

“Sleep now Remus”

 

“Fine.” As faint as it is, there’s a stubbornness in Remus’ final word, and Sirius grins at the sound of it.

 

“See you tomorrow” Sirius finishes. 

 

Now silence falls for good, and he can hear the boys snoring, he makes his way back into bed. Sleep covers him almost instantly and he realises that it has been weeks since he can remember falling asleep without spending hours restlessly thinking about what his birthday might bring. 

 

*

 

At breakfast the next morning it feels rather oddly as if normal service has resumed, even though Sirius feels anything but normal. Sirius can’t help the happiness and energy and  _ life _ that bubbles over and, although the boys never ask and Sirius never offers up an explanation, there is an understanding where this new life comes from. 

 

That afternoon Sirius forgoes proofreading Charms essay in the library that afternoon - one essay with an Exceed Expectations in sixth year will hardly take him too far off his current track towards an Outstanding overall - and finishes reading the remaining 249 pages of the Advanced Human Transfiguration book instead. He briefly puts in an appearance at his own Birthday celebration, quickly devouring cake and pumpkin juice, before slinking off to a quiet corner of the castle and resuming his studying. 

 

Ignoring his friends is a small price to pay at this moment, and Sirius does not regret the hours he spends practicing the wand movements and practical methodologies and  memorizing the theory.

 

By Saturday morning, he feels as if he hasn’t spoken a word to another human in three days which, he realises, might actually be the case. But three days silence doesn’t bother him even slightly, in fact it is entirely worth it, when, at around 4pm on Saturday afternoon, he ushers the boys into a sunny spot near the edge of the forest and leaps into the shape of a large black dog. 

 

The morning of his seventeenth birthday whilst filled with joy and contentment, also lacked some direction. He had puzzled over what to do for maybe an hour or so before coming the conclusion that most witches and wizards do on the receipt of their Other mark. He decided then and there that it was not his place to tell Remus who his Other is. It was not even his place to pursue Remus’ affections, or woo him, or ask him on dates. It  _ was  _ Sirius’ place, and more importantly it was an honour, to help his friend - his  _ Other - _ in anyway he could. 

 

That night he strides by his friend’s side in the moonlight, two vast canines prowling the grounds of Hogwarts together. Sirius wagers that they make quiet a sight. 

 

In the morning he and Remus both wake on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, both exhausted, but happy, and relatively unscathed - something that Sirius understands to be an anomaly for Remus after a transformation. 

 

Only two or three smaller scars adorn their skin from the night before. One is a small but bloody scratch high on the collarbone, just at the junction of the neck, on the left side. It’s visible even when they are wearing clothes. Both on Remus, and its silver twin on Sirius. 

 

Remus dresses quickly, all the while pressing a hand to the cut to stem the blood flow slightly, whilst also probing the wound for severity. Sirius watches this movement and thinks about what the silver twin of this mark looks like on his own collarbone. 

 

He pulls on his clothes, desperate to ward off the chill of the shack, but when he looks up again Remus is still standing there. He’s staring at Sirius - more specifically Sirius’ collarbone. 

 

Sirius has to remind himself: It is not Sirius’ place to tell Remus. 

 

But it is also not his place to hide it from him. 

 

Sirius smiles carefully at Remus, not in a way that might confirm or deny anything, or even invite questions. Remus’ eyes are wary, tentative, but there is a small glimmer of hope there as well. 

 

Remus looks at Sirius’ neck again for a long time. Without taking his eyes off Sirius for a second, Remus pulls at a scarf that is scrunched and stuffed into his coat pocket and unwinds it. He steps forward and drapes it round Sirius’ neck, looping the ratty knitted grey garment around a few times to cover any trace of the mark. 

 

Remus hasn’t let go of the scarf, and they are still so close at this point, but the distance feels like miles still. Then in the quiet, almost in a single exhale, Remus speaks. “This,” he gestures at Sirius’ neck, “this is just for  _ us _ right now.” 

 

Sirius understands completely and fully. Remus isn’t hiding the scar from his own view, just from everyone else's, but that doesn’t mean that Remus is ready. Sirius knows that he will have to wait, and not push, until at least March, when Remus would turn seventeen. He knows that these words might be the only words spoken about their situation between now and then. And he  _ knows  _ how brave Remus was for saying them out loud, when he wasn’t certain - when Remus could have so easily told himself that what he saw on Sirius’ collarbone was a mistake, a fluke or a trick of the light, and ignored it.  

 

Sirius smiles contentedly in the frosty morning light, dust specks fly and air is musty in the shack. “Just for us.” he echoes pulling the scarf closer around his neck. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A look at the start of another couple in the Orange and Violet Blooms universe. You don't need to have read that one first, but some stuff might not make sense.


End file.
